


Looking for a Breath of Life

by Tabithian



Series: Through the Looking Glass [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason knows it's unfair of them, but seriously, Tim is like. <i>Ten.</i> Which means he gets stuck with research duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for a Breath of Life

**Author's Note:**

> There was that AU Idea generator again and [this post](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/126551702059/two-medieval-monks-invent-bestiaries) and IDK, things got away from me.

Jason knows it's unfair of them, but seriously, Tim is like. _Ten._ Which means he gets stuck with research duty.

Jason winces, imagines what Tim would do if he knew what Jason's thinking. Tiny or not, the kid's vicious when he wants to be, which is pretty much always. When he fights, he fights to win, fights _dirty_

Still.

He's the youngest of them, discounting Damian because fucking really, that kid's literally a demon brat and while his physical vessel is actually ten years old, the thing that makes him Damian is older than Gotham. 

Older than New Jersey. 

America.

Hell, even Bruce isn't really sure how old the little monster is, with his ability to dip in and out of the time-stream any time he wants. (Pun not intended, Dick. You can just shut the hell up right fucking now.)

So.

Tim is ten, and tiny, and on the injured list because the little shit never listens, never does what he's told especially when it's in his best interest.

_(”Stay put, don't fucking come after us, got me? If you don't hear from us in two hours pack up the demon brat and Alfred and get the hell out of Gotham, don't you fucking dare come in after us. These fuckers will will kill you deader than I am, do you hear me?”)_

Willfully ignores orders if he thinks they're wrong or just plain stupid. Always, always, always has to argue with Jason or Dick or, Christ, _Bruce_ , when he thinks he's right and they're being idiots. (And, fair point, Tim's usually right, just. God, it's so fucking frustrating.)

But.

Yeah.

Point is, Tim is the kind of stupid who will go into a goddamn vampire's nest without backup. 

Damian doesn't really count because he has some kind of issue with Tim no one can get to the bottom of, and also, again, literal demon brat, and how the hell Bruce didn't know what Talia is, Jason doesn't know. 

Dick thinks Damian's still trying to reconcile his former life with Talia and Ra's and the way their little clan handles demonic hierarchy with his current life with them and their comparatively informal and chaotic pecking order. (Fuck, shut up Dick, that's _Christ_.)

Jason thinks Damian's just a little shit, used to being so damn important where he came from and now there's _them_ , and Tim, who. God. So damn frustrating, that kid. Seriously.

Who knows what Alfred thinks, enigmatic smile and noncommittal noises and inwardly laughing at all of them because they're idiots.

Barbara just takes bets, which one of them will come out the winner when they eventually naps and go all cage death match on one another. Steph rolls her eyes and puts money down on Tim because she dated the little shit for a while, knows what he's like. Cass rolls her eyes and ignores them because again, idiots, and Bruce.

He's probably the closest to the truth. Seems to think it's something to do with Damian jumping ahead in the time-stream when he's bored, getting glimpses of their future and finding something to do with Tim that makes him even grumpier than usual.

But, yeah.

Tim will go into a fucking vampire's nest without backup, Damian tagging along behind because _demon brat_ and vampires are pretty fucking nasty. All kinds of fucked up emotions for him to feed off from their food sources, and God, God, Jason fucking hates he thinks of them like that, but really.

Vampires are mean, nasty, and when they grab humans for food for the long haul, _stock up_ , it's.

It's a goddamn mess, and the only kind thing to be done is to put the poor bastards out of their misery. 

And sometimes their intel is bad, through no fault of Barbara's, because there are a lot of people, _things_ out there who want them dead, dead, _dead_.

Who will lie and cheat and steal – murder – to set up traps for them, like. 

Say.

A damn vampire's nest popping out of nowhere right under their noses. Bruce getting that _look_ on his face and Dick and Jason scrambling to keep up because Bruce is still only human, and vampires.

Fuck, Jason hates them.

More than anything else in Gotham that goes bump in the night, he fucking hates vampires.

It's not even an irrational thing anymore, because they're mean, nasty, for the sake of it, Because it amuses them.

And Tim.

He'll go in after the three of them even though he has to know there's no way he stands a chance against an entire nest with just the demon brat, after them, and.

He's good, is the thing.

Fantastic with research, and it's been a fight to keep Barbara from stealing him, or trying to steal him. Strong fighter because Bruce's standards and Tim's own insecurity that make him push himself harder than Bruce ever could, and.

God.

“Hey,” Dick says, materializes out fucking nowhere like always because he loves seeing their reactions. “You need to see this.”

Jason gives him a _look_.

Dick grins, teeth bright in the dim light. “It's not like the last time I said that, promise,” he says, snags Jason's sleeve and tug him along behind him.

Jason sighs, tolerates Dick being himself, humming something to himself under his breath and letting go of Jason's sleeve to hold his hand up when they get to the library door.

“Keep quiet, or he'll hear us.”

“What?”

Dick looks over his shoulder at Jason, and holds a finger up to his mouth in a universal _shhh_ gesture.

What the hell?

Quietly, carefully, Dick pushes the door to the library open, and Jason makes out a voice – two voices?

Dick laughs, quiet little huff of air, and reaches back to wrap his hand around Jason's wrist, pulling him into the library after him.

The voices seem to be coming from the back of the room where Tim's favorite table is set up in a dark little corner, which.

Okay, yeah, when they get closer he can tell that at least one of the voices is Tim.

And.

The second voice is also Tim, with a horrible British accent and something like a lisp and - 

“What the hell is going on right now?” Jason asks, head cocked to listen to Tim talking to himself.

Literally.

Talking to himself.

Dick's hand on his wrist tightens because the dumbass is laughing, so, so hard and trying to keep quiet, as Tim talks to himself like a lunatic. (Uses _voices_.)

Jason edges past Dick, looks around the bookshelf they're using for cover to see Tim at the his table surrounded by books and his laptop, empty coffee mugs scattered all over the damn place.

He's wearing his glasses, hair pulled back in that ridiculous ponytail he favors when he's doing hardcore research like this, and.

Jason's eyes narrow when his gaze lands on the claw marks trailing down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, unmistakable bulk of bandages underneath. The bruising on his face and the way he moves stiffly when he reaches for something.

“Jason.”

Jason looks to Dick, who's watching him, something sad, understanding in his eyes because that's _Tim_ , so damn stupid, stubborn. Takes all these damn risks and doesn't think a thing of them, and is just.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

“Shut up,” Jason says, turns his attention back to Tim. 

Dick sighs, moves to stand next to Jason, leans against him. “He's fine,” Dick says, but there's something to his voice that makes Jason think he's trying to reassure himself as much as Jason. “And he hit a dead end with the research, so.”

So Tim is doing voices and talking to himself?

“I think he's working with the bestiaries,” Dick says, smile twitching at his lips.

Really, you don't say.

Because Tim is over there doing voices and asking the serious question such do birds have meetings, and if so, who wears the meeting hat? And what part of the knight the fish go on and what part of the goat is a snail because fucking seriously, some of the illustrations in those damn things.

Jason sighs. 

“He eat anything yet?”

Dick shakes his head, rueful smile on his lips. “I came here to get him to come up for air, but.”

Yeah, okay.

Tim doesn't.

He doesn't do things like this much anymore, act like the weird little kid who'd showed up at the manor all those years ago. And when he does, he's usually exhausted from pulling too many all-nighters or drugged up and hurting. (All too often it's a combination of the two.)

“Would you mind keeping an eye on him while I go grab some food? I don't think he's going to want to leave right now.”

Tim looks like he's dug in the duration, books stacked up around him like come kind of fortification guarded by a coffee mug army.

“I don't think the idiot needs any more coffee,” Jason says, doesn't bother to count the number of empty mugs because he doesn't want to know.

Dick laughs again, quiet, and pats Jason's shoulder before he.

God, Jason's not even sure if there's a term for it that doesn't sound like it belongs in some fantasy novel, which. He gets it, he does. They fight things like vampires and demons (Goddamn Ra's) and there are actual dragons and other things like them out there, but.

Dick vanishes, materializes, dissipates, whatever, because he has sylph blood in his family tree somewhere, enough to let him pull it like this, and.

“Asshole,” Jason mutters, turns around and walks towards Tim.

Snorts, when Tim stops talking mid-word and just.

Looks at Jason.

There's a long, awkward pause.

Tim looking at Jason.

Jason looking at Tim.

Repeat.

And then, because Jason knows this could go on indefinitely, he pulls up a chair beside Tim and looks down at the bestiary in front of him. Studies one of the illustrations and then imitates Tim's deliberately terrible British accent and takes up the role of Monk # 2.

Says, “What kind of bird tucks people into bed at night?”

Because Tim is a frustrating, weird little shit, but he's theirs, for what it's worth, and.

Tim smiles, slow, ducks his head and comes back with, “Any bird.”

Jason feels that hard little knot of fear, dread loosen as he plays along, because Tim went in after them, got them _out_ , and almost gotten himself killed, but.

He's still alive, and the kid they met all those years ago is still in there, resurfaces like this now and again, and.

Fuck.

They're all probably going to die young, die bloody (Jason already has), but right now.

Right now there's Tim being a weird little dork, Dick being an exasperating big brother to them both, and.

This, moments like this, makes up for a lot of the shit they go through.


End file.
